


An Exercise in Patience

by OverwroughtMind



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #JustFuckMeUp Fest, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwroughtMind/pseuds/OverwroughtMind
Summary: { A/B/O Universe. } Will Graham is experiencing issues with a case that leaves him feeling depressed. Due to this, Will starts losing track of anything else and stops taking proper care of himself. As time goes by, along with a few sessions, Hannibal realizes just how much time and energy has been given to this new killer and he knows Will is dangerously close to heat, but is unable to recognize it  himself due to his passion for the case. Curious about how events will unfold, Hannibal silently enjoys the growing scent on the omega and watches on as Will continues to be unaware of the effects the case is having on him until it is too late and the detective suddenly disappears.





	1. The Hunt Starts

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written FF since I was around 11 or 12 so I know this isn't going to be that great. I'm planning maybe 2 or three chapters, I'm not really sure yet. This is mostly an exercise for writing an actual novel I've been planning out for a while now, while also getting in the habit of writing more often despite distractions and whatnot.
> 
> Ko-Fi link: http://ko-fi.com/A134418X
> 
> Twitter Link: https://twitter.com/Brainboi4

   Will Graham stood in front of a long row of pews, staring down at the red carpet that, he was certain, was once all the same bright crimson color, but was now dusted in the spray of dark brown splatters that trickled their way up to the head of the imaginary congregation. He took his first few steps after glancing at the empty pews in the back, noting a knocked over candle fixture which, thankfully, had been unlit at the time. Not much else appeared to be out of place here, and Will could tell from a glance that there hadn't been much of a struggle. His attention was brought forward again as he neared the slumped over figure at the pulpit.

   The man let out a slow breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding, his mouth just slightly parted as he took in a short breath. The air was heavy with the stench of death, the body before him already starting to rot. The corpse was hanging ever so slightly over the pulpit seemingly shushing the person in the pew to his left. Will followed his line of sight, glancing at the doll and doing a double take. His head tilted ever so slightly to the left, Will took two steps forward before crouching beside the tiny figure. Upon closer inspection, the doll had no discerning features on its face. Pure white porcelain looked back at him, and Graham was left with a feeling of immense sadness. If this doll had eyes, they would be full of fear.

   But Will Graham was not here to speculate the what ifs, but only that which happened. Taking a steadying breath, he stood again and winced at the slightest of popping sounds that came from his spine, knowing, deep down, that he was definitely in need of getting back into some sort of shape after years of standing before a class. He turned his attention to the priest and closed his eyes, and felt himself fade away. He was floating, up, up, past himself, and a hand of a clock phased across his vision, warm, much warmer than his cold, cold body. He soon no longer felt attached to himself, his mind full of the soft noise of a babbling brook, peaceful, in comparison to the usual overlapping voices that stung his temples. But the serenity did not last long. He felt cold again, even colder than before. The sensation of being watched kept his heart rate, which he was suddenly, overbearingly aware of, going wild. He opened his eyes.

   The doll that had once sat in the pew with its miserable disposition was now down in his hands. More specifically, he was cradling it against his chest, hidden by soft wrappings that were wrapped along his upper body tightly. Like one might carry a sleeping baby, he stepped carefully into the church, blinking rapidly at the bright yellow light that flooded his vision, used to the complete darkness outside. The transition was seamless- Will was no longer Will, with his shoulders squared and his posture reading 'leave me alone', but he was this- wide-eyed and almost panicked, his head kept low, eyes downcast to the crimson carpet below, bright, bright and beautiful and perfect-

   "Hello, child. Are you lost? The church has been closed for the night..." A soft voice spoke out to him, and Will jerkily looked up. He jolted at the bright light on him suddenly, blinking and shying away from it, releasing a raspy low breath before glancing back at the now walking corpse.

   "I stand before Father Johnathan," he began to recite, glancing down at the priest's feet before looking quickly back to his face, a quick once over to determine his suspicions. "I am smaller. Weaker. And this is what sets me off first."

   In one quick motion, Will's hand, that had been resting over the other which held the doll by the head, slid a knife out from the wraps around his body. His hand was shaking as he held it to his side, before extending it towards the priest.

   "He does not recognize me. I think I recognize him. I'm afraid. Always afraid. But not anymore," He whispered, and then launched himself at the priest, breathing going wild and raspy as he stabbed the knife into his neck with a satisfying noise that oddly enough sounded like a skipped rock that swelled up in his chest and yes, yes, that was good- just one more and it would be done and perfect-

   Will let out a guttural noise, too inhumane for a label, and too human-like to be a snarl. The knife was yanked from his hand, and he followed the priest as he stumbled along the pews, hanging off them like he was blessing them with his touch like those healers on t.v who touch people's shoulders while belting out prayers. Will countered this by walking parallel to him on the other side of the pews, pushing the candelabra out of his way without taking his gaze off the priest, relishing in the look of fear and despair on the other's quickly paling face.

   Will raised his gaze up as the priest reached his pedestal, gasping and choking on his blood. "He will tell no one. He will never spread his lies again. No, he'll never speak," Will almost purred as he brought the knife up to his line of sight, head tilted as he inspected the glittering surface that was marred with the blood of the Lord's servant. A choking cry broke the tension, and Will felt a wave of fear as he looked over to the priest, worried, suddenly, that he had not done enough, the man hadn't fallen. He was touching his throat with the worried look of an animal shot, the peace of the woods disturbed. Will wasted no time coming forward, hesitating at the steps before he turned back, unwrapping his little gift and placing it on the pew with a smile and kissing its forehead. He couldn't risk damaging its precious head. Couldn't get it dirty.

   He turned to the priest with the knife clenched in his whitening fist. "I will send the father to heaven. I will save his soul- his and everyone he's ever touched." Will exhaled, the knife turned to the father, who now rested partially on the pulpit, his face, twisted in beautiful, wonderful terror, and plunged the blade back into his throat until it began to spew as wonderfully as the first had, a fountain that would have sprayed the congregation's horrified faces if he had just been on time.

   Will looked down to the man and smiled softly, leaning closer and looking the priest in the eyes as his life was fading from them. "This is my design," Will whispered, softer than anything he had ever spoken in his life. The father's gaze stayed on Will even as he slumped over the copy of the holy book and died in front of him, his lips ever so slightly parted.

   Will broke free from the images plaguing him with a sharp inhale, blinking and glancing around him. There was light fighting a way through the stained glass windows, illuminating the father's now stiff body. This is where Beverly now stood, swabbing the wound carefully for any signs of evidence. It helped, seeing her, break Will from the fantasy that had just played out vividly. Will turned his gaze back to the doll, his brow knit as he moved towards it. There was only one thing that did not feel right about this crime, a slip up that could cost the killer something even more dearly than a life behind bars.

   He had forgotten the thing most precious to him. Well, Will thought a moment that 'he' was most probably incorrect. There was a strong maternal instinct towards this doll in particular. So strong that Will had to fight the urge to grasp the doll and clasp it to his chest and never let it go. It was an irregular, irrational thought that usually one such as Will only felt in the throngs of a very heavy hitting heat. And Will, blissfully, was not in such a sorry state.

   The detective stood and nodded to Crawford, his lips pulled into a thin, fake smile for a second as he did so, and he began walking towards the doors, knowing that the man was following despite him never speaking. He let off a strong scent of authority that could be smelled from the next building over at the best of times. Will knew that Jack was as alpha as alpha's come- sometimes even coming across as rude by how authoritative he could be, although the omega knew this was never on purpose. It did not make the sting of his words hurt any less when he was in one of his moods and his voice rang of power.

   "Graham," Crawford called out, and Will reluctantly stopped in place, scrunching up his nose and cocking his head to the side a second before turning around, giving Jack an acknowledging glance to the face before dropping his vision down to the floor between them. Jack had his hands in his pockets, his brow filled with wrinkles of worry as he looked long and hard at Will, as if studying him for any cracks or faults before he politely looked away and looked over the large cathedral instead. "What do you know?"

   Will kept his gaze down, "Not much," He admitted, before nodding towards the doll, his brows raised high. "The person who did this was... not entirely there. It was... it was a defensive action," He murmured, and watched Jack's brows raise impossibly high. Ah, wrong answer.

   "This was an act of defense? Attacking a priest after hours, who is not only alone but also defenseless? Stabbing him twice? That is defensive to you?" Crawford drilled him, and it took all his power to not wince. He was definitely in one of his moods, and Will kept himself from grumbling about it as he raised his chin, his voice raising in octave as passion took over, made him speak faster.

   "Yes, to them. To them, it would be defensive. They were terrified, this killer was... maybe deranged. Maybe broken. They barely thought, just acted, and in doing so, they lost something-" His throat closed around the word and he wrinkled his nose again and shook it off, giving a frustrated exhale as he ran his fingers through messy, unkempt curls, "They left behind that doll on accident. It was their most precious... it was their child." He murmured, and met Jack's eye with conviction. This appeared to work, as Jack surveyed his face one more time and gave a grunt, exhaling and half turning, adjusting his suit jacket once as he looked to the priest.

   When Jack spoke again, he was not looking at Will, "So this killer just happened to leave behind it's 'child'. Why? Why forget something so important?"

   Will gave a tight-lipped smile and shrugged. "Why does a mother forget it's child in the grocery store? Why does a working father lose the attention of his child? They're busy. Their thoughts are on other things- maybe they realized what they did was wrong," Will, even as he said it, was certain this wasn't completely true. This killer was satisfied with the damage it had inflicted, so much as to partake in the action twice. But the detective could consider that the perpetrator may have felt some form of remorse for their actions, or even felt immoral, surrounded by the godly imagery...

   Graham took a step towards Jack, his hand poised partially at his side, pointing to the doll. "Look over that. Dust it off, anything you need to do. Just don't lose it." He glanced at the doll and felt a pang, which had him closing his eyes for a moment. The feeling of loss was a distant memory he didn't appreciate reliving so suddenly, "They might be coming back for it."

—

   Hannibal Lecter liked to think of himself as a rational, proper alpha. He seldom gave into instinct, and, despite an exceedingly strong sense of smell, pheromones rarely worked on the man. Lecter knew when to bring out the authoritative tone his voice could assuredly carry, how to use it to coax patients into relaxing or a submissive state if they grew too hostile. Hannibal, if he was a boasting man, would talk for days about the joy he had experienced the first time he had used the voice successfully on another alpha. One could get drunk with the power such authority gave a man over another. Lecter would not deny using it to his advantage at times. But, he would contrarily find it rude to go up to any old alpha, beta, or even omega and use such tones on them. It was purely used for work reasons. And hunting.

   At just the thought, Hannibal could not help but to take a deep breath and glance over at a familiar set of cards sitting on his countertop. The man shook his head with a pleasant smile, however, and turned instead to place a kettle on the stove, his eyes half-lidded as he waited for the water to heat up. He was a patient man, and not driven by his instincts like the lowly alphas he at times had over for dinner. The scent of pheromones over the dinner table was almost enough to make him sick at times, strong, uselessly so, and it took ages to get the stench aired out. He didn't need any of his patients smelling that mess on him.

   Hannibal's mind lingered on one patient, thumbing him over like he was a page in the book of his mind. Will was an interesting man. An omega who carried a strong scent that he could pluck out of a crowd even if it had been weeks since he'd last seen them. It was odd to meet someone whose scent did have any pull outside of being overbearing and disgusting. Hannibal could inhale his scent for days, and maybe, deep down, was a bit embarrassed to admit that when the omega was over for sessions, he would find ways to get close to get a decent inhale of aftershave and, well, musk. He always smelt slightly of sweat, but not in an 'I never bathe' or 'I'm an alpha who works out 24/7' sort of way, but more so like the sweat that clings to someone's skin in the act of making love. It was no longer sour in the act of coitus, but was, instead, a tantalizing treat, savory, a sprinkle of flavor that set the whole thing over the top.

   Maybe, even, the page in his mind for Will Graham was more like a letter, sprayed with the perfume of a lover sent to someone caged far away. He could feel the yearning build at just the memory of it. He could not imagine the way Graham would smell in heat, bathed in the scent completely, the underlying pheromones suddenly soaring in the air-

   Hannibal broke from his stupor when he heard an audible crack and looked down. He had left the slightest of fingertips on his counter. His lips twitched into a furrowed line. Oh, bother. He had gotten so worked up over a little omega that he had destroyed a valuable piece of his home.

   Dr. Lecter took the kettle off the stove and gently brewed his tea with practiced hands, the tea leaves taking off the edge of his budding arousal. The man shook his head. A simple omega shouldn't have such power over anyone, let alone someone so potentially... well, dangerous, for him. He was his therapist, after all, someone he bared his entire being to. And he was ultimately his friend.

   It was too dangerous. And that was infuriating.

   A knock at the door came as a surprise, and the doctor who had just been half bent, glaring down at his brewing tea now looked to the door with an almost empty glance before his eyes lidded over. Yes, how did that phrase go again?

   "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Dr. Lecter recounted to himself in a quiet, clipped voice, smiling as he went to open the door, almost holding his breath as he did so. Will immediately walked in, brushing by him, touching just slightly, words already spilling from his moving lips, but the doctor barely heard him by how fast the man was going. Instead, he chuckled under his breath, wondering how an action, usually so carelessly rude, made him feel somehow... lighter. That, and it didn't make him want to add that to a list of reasons Will was a target. Yet.

   "A sudden visit. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Hannibal asked politely, following along after standing at the door a moment to shake off the surprise. The door made a pleasant click as he turned towards his tea, pouring out two mugs of it now. "This isn't your time."

   Will swallowed around his ramblings and looked down at his hands, which were clasped, and shaking so, so terribly. "I... I thought I could handle this one. It was so simple. But it feels like it's choking me all the time," he spoke softly, and Hannibal could hear the way his voice broke over more than one word. His brow gave a visible twitch. That was odd.

   "I assume you mean a case... Tell me about it. Perhaps discussing it will console you," The alpha replied smoothly, gently handing Will the cup before taking a sip from his own, watching the man over the rim of the mug. Will looked... disheveled. And that was saying something, as at times, Hannibal wondered if the omega just jumped out of bed, into new clothes, and started the day. Today, in particular, his hair was going every which way as though he had been tugging on it nonstop, his shirt, which was, to his credit, buttoned, was one button off, and as Hannibal looked down- yes, he was wearing two different shoes. His lips twitched in amusement.

   Will took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair, pulling very lightly. "I... I was at the church. Investigating the murder of Father Johnathan. But there was something that just.. it was off," Will sighed, putting his head in his hands as he slumped and sat in a seat at the counter, rubbing at his eyes. He didn't know how to even begin to explain.

   Hannibal recognized that look Will was giving the countertop. He had seen it many times before a few poor patients had begun to go down a dark road. He had been lucky to bring up a few from the icy depths. Others had chosen quicker, more permanent routes.

   Something stirred inside of Dr. Lecter then, and he knew that this would not do. A mantra of not this one circled inside his head until he was leaning across the counter, his hand moving over Will's, who had put them in front of him, around the warm mug.

   "Off how Will?" Hannibal spoke in a hushed tone and searched Will's downcast face for any changes. He was delighted when the omega easily met his gaze, the two studying each other. Asking the same questions. Will you understand me? Can I trust you?

   It appeared Will found his answer first. "The killer had something very precious to them. And now it's lost. I mean, I know where it is, but to them, it's lost and maybe even gone forever, and it could make them-" Will spoke quickly but easily stopped when Hannibal held up a hand, his gaze ever so patient.

   "You are internalizing someone else's loss as your own. You have made it personal," Hannibal stated matter of factly, leaning back and folding his hands together, sitting straight and proud. "You are hurt in a way you've never hurt before... or..." He tilted his head just so slightly when Will's face had changed, the color in his eyes shifting around wildly like a storm, " The loss is too familiar to you. It hurts to feel it all over again when you've done nothing to deserve it."

   Will looked down to his lap then, hands sinking to brace against the chair as he adjusted himself on it, ignoring the sting in his eyes as he tried to shake his head. He didn't want to hear that. He just wanted it gone. Wanted to fix it, or maybe just box it up and put it on a high shelf somewhere to maybe be found some other day...

   Hannibal motioned to Will with one hand, "You take in so many other's pains and make them yours. It is no surprise that you are feeling depressed, Will." Hannibal felt a jolt when Will's gaze snapped back to his. That had garnered some attention.

   "Depressed?" Will asked, and, queerly, almost smiled, "You think I'm depressed?"

   "Being depressed is a common symptom of feeling loss. You feel helpless. You lack energy, start losing track of time, losing track of necessary habits," Hannibal glanced to Will, noting the scruffier than usual beard, "It is... unfortunately, a very human way of dealing with pain. But it is treatable."

   Will barely stifled a laugh and he stood, rubbing his chin as he moved over to the nearby window, staring out at the dark sky, a hand on his hip. He was silent a moment before he half turned to Dr. Lecter again, who simply waited patiently, sipping at his tea. The omega motioned to the alpha with a weak exhale.

   "If I'm depressed, they must be feeling something even worse. Rage, maybe. Maybe they'll come after what they've lost. God knows I.." He swallowed around a lump in his throat, not noticing the way Hannibal leaned forward with his eyes half-lidded. "If I lost what they did, I don't think I'd be able to handle myself."

   That was enough to get a smile out of Hannibal, the conversation piquing his ever so present curiosity. "And what was it that they lost, Will?"

   Will, who had turned back to the window to stare up at the moon, blinked in surprise and slowly turned back to Hannibal, his hands folded behind his back. He watched the doctor a moment before sighing softly, nodding. "A child," He spoke in a raspy voice, his gaze going back to the window as he tried to cram down the rising urge to cry.

   Hannibal sat back and, if he had been a stereotypical villain, perhaps he would have pursed his lips or let out a laugh. But Hannibal was no movie villain, and he instead stood, coming to Graham's side and glancing out to the moon, his eyes half-lidded. curiosity stirred inside him, bubbling to the surface, and he began to wonder: why not? He had been very polite and careful lately. He could be a bit reckless.

   "I have felt that loss before," Hannibal murmured solemnly, keeping his eyes to the window. He could feel Will's turn to him, looking him over, questioning and churning it over in that strange head of his that was no doubt trying to make up how that felt. Dr. Lecter almost hoped he could see him, bare in at least this sense. And that in itself was troubling.

   "I'm sorry," Will finally spoke, although he might as well had whispered it. He could not usually imagine the man at his side as a father, truly, but- after squinting at him in just the right light he could see the edge of age working its magic on the man, the wisdom he could potentially bestow, and the patience the man must have held to be able to handle the many patients who come in and out his doors. Yes, this man definitely could be a father - and, technically, weren't they both? Will grimaced at the memory of Hobbs. Abigail had been the only blessing to come out of that situation.

   Hannibal glanced to the omega, who quickly looked away in embarrassment. The doctor found himself almost disappointed. "Don't be. It was a very long time ago, and I have dealt with it how you will deal with this pseudo-loss," He said with a smile, turning to sit back at the counter, motioning for Will to follow along. "With good old fashioned therapy."

   Will let out a huffed sigh, but a small smile came to his face. Over the many sessions and cases that the two had shared, Hannibal had become a constant reminder of reality, a sort of comfort. Maybe even a friend. Will hadn't ever had many of those. If Hannibal was willing to deal with his amounting issues, then Will was in no position to deny the doctor his company - whether it be professional or personal after all.

   The man sat back at the counter and spoke softly, calmer, as he explained the case and how it had made him feel. Hannibal listened, never interrupting, only giving small interpretations whenever Will took a break, or gave encouragement when the omega turned those large, worried eyes back up to him, undoubtedly self-conscious. Hannibal admired the insight into his method of thought. The doctor was proud of the steps that they had made in one singular night - Will had gone from keeping at least a foot of distance between the two to leaning across the counter to motion with his hands as he spoke. Hannibal found that particular passionate expression up close was alluringly adorable.

   Hannibal, by the end of the night, was chuckling along to Will's recounting of Jack's fumbling attempts to understand. He was leaning over the counter himself, even, and being so close to Will when he was so relaxed made even the doctor let himself go ever so slightly. He slipped up when he took in a deep breath after a short fit of laughter. His eyes widened and he visibly recoiled, his jaw set in a tight line. Will was none the wiser to the sudden change, how the alpha's eyes had gone almost predatory, beady and black and almost seething. Will smelled delectable. Too much so.

   He would be going into heat soon.

   The crack in the doctor's human suit was quickly patched up, and the doctor was able to smile along with the man. But deep down a new thread of curiosity was prodding its way through the eye of a needle. A needle Hannibal was certain he could use to sew many colorful tapestries. The doctor knew that Will was not the most observant of his own body, how he moved or spoke, and he was sure this was no different from how the man's cycles came and went. Will appeared to be the kind of omega who realized he was entering heat in the middle of a class and just walked his way home. So, so dangerous.

   Hannibal gazed at the omega with a sly smile. He needn't do a thing. He wanted to see how the omega reacted to his heat, just as he wanted to know how he woke up in the morning. Will's page in his mind was forever too short, and it frustrated the doctor to no end. But if Dr. Lecter could only observe from a distance, a safe, safe distance, he could get answers to the many, many curious little questions that kept him awake at night.

   He never told Will. Instead, once the pair realized the time, they almost danced their way to the door, stopping a moment to discuss more frequent therapy sessions, to trading off a book that Will was curious about that sat on his bookcase, before ending at the door. The sight of Will with the book against his chest and his jacket, just the slightest bit large for him in the arms, had Hannibal imagining silly teenage girls in horror movies being dropped off by dates before the slashing began.

   "We can continue our discussion of loss this Tuesday," Hannibal nearly purred, his smile to Will pleasant as the omega nodded in agreement. Blissfully ignorant.

   "Sure," Will murmured, heading to exit the door before he half turned to Hannibal, swallowing down a small spark of nervousness as he looked at anything but the doctor, "Hannibal?" He murmured, the name sounding strange on his tongue somehow, despite saying it plenty times before.

   Hannibal's lips twitched. That too could have been added to a list if it was anyone but Will. "Yes?"

   "Thank you. For listening," Will said, and, with a tight-lipped smile and a nod, turned and left the home of the doctor who stood, blinking, in his doorway. The doctor tilted his head to the side as if considering something before a small smile lit up his face as he went to clean his dishes from the day.

   "You're welcome, Will. I have to thank you some time, too..."


	2. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Will Graham goes missing, who is there to find him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a long time. Still one more chapter to go, I believe. Hopefully not two but you never know. 
> 
> Writing is a little off and slow. Been doing housework stuff now that its getting consistently warmer, but I got up at 6am to get this chapter done today before I potentially had to do anything.
> 
>  
> 
> Ko-Fi link: http://ko-fi.com/A134418X
> 
> Twitter Link: https://twitter.com/Brainboi4

   Will Graham was not a man who chose to act strange to arouse the attention of passerby's. Graham was a man of few words to his students, a surprisingly stern omega who graded fairly most of the time, but would easily hand out a bad grade, and it did not matter the number of flirtation attempts or passes at forcing him into a submissive state, if you failed, it was on you. He was an omega of exceedingly strong will, and this was what made him alluring to many. He was himself, however, a man who was seldom afflicted with affections or the urge to seek them out.

 

   Will had felt affected by the presence of alphas and betas before. Most of the time, he thought they were crude, especially some of those who were scattered along the campus. Will was a special omega, obedient to very few. He could still recall the first time he had laid his eyes on Alana and felt her presence overwhelm him, almost to the point of falling to his knees right then and there before her. She had smiled at him, taken his hand in hers, and was surprisingly soft to the touch despite the power that she exuded. She smelled like honeysuckles, sweet, and being near her felt like hearing peaceful bees buzzing. He fell in love right then.

 

   That had been years ago. Before she had learned that he was, unfortunately, unstable, as she would call it, and Will recognized her using that scent to always, always, keep him calm and submissive. It grated his nerves. The feelings dissipated into something more familial very quickly.

 

  Since being affected so strongly by Alana, Will had tried to close himself off from alphas as a whole. That is to say, more than he had before. And he had hardly been affected by anyone before meeting Alana either. Sure, when he first met Crawford, he had shied away from his authoritative tone like a dog with its tail between its legs. But that too quickly wore off, and he found himself, even to this day, grinding his teeth in the back of a large room full of investigators as Jack grumbled on about the speculations on who committed yet another one of the ghastly crimes Will was still in charge of seeing solved.

 

   He had been able to provide little information, much to Jack's distaste. Will had snapped back at him with a ferocity that even had Jimmy, an admittedly somewhat timid omega, cowering as Brian, an overbearing beta at the best of times, tried to step in between Will and Jack as they stared each other down. Will had to fight the urge to hit him and was surprised at the sudden violent urge to tear someone he usually respected in two. The investigator had apologized under his breath through grit teeth, blamed it on a headache, and the pair had not spoken since.

 

   Will could still feel Zeller's attempt at a calming presence on his skin. He tried to wipe it away with a look most would call constipated.

 

   When the meeting was over, Graham turned to leave the room and was pleased when Jack did not even attempt to stop him. He felt exceedingly unstable these last few days, and even his usual pleasant visits to Dr. Lecter had stopped calming his nerves. Will simply assumed that he had grown, yet again, immune to the presence of an alpha. He wondered if maybe something was really wrong with his head.

 

   Will was disappointed when it was Zeller who made his way over to him, inspecting him, up and down, like he might lash out any moment.

 

   I might, Will thought. And that was a dangerous line of thought. Will didn't decide to chase that little white rabbit.

 

   "You alright, Will?" Zeller asked, and his tone was not as condescending as it had been earlier when trying to keep Jack from lunging at the omega. It didn't help Will's soured mood, which flared up like a growing flame that threatened to flick out at the unsuspecting beta, intending to burn him alive.

 

   "Fine," Will grumbled curtly, taking a moment to put a hand on his hip and rub at the spaces between his eyes and nose, feeling the start of a real headache come on. He felt flushed, unbearably so. It made him feel even angrier.

 

   Brian gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes, going to speak before, thankfully, Beverly came forward and gently pushed him back. "Cut it out, you could put a guy to sleep with that tone of voice," She hissed, her brows raised at her fellow beta. Will did not find her nearly as excessive as Zeller could be at times. Hell, it had taken him a while to realize she even was a beta. She was so headstrong and unafraid of direct confrontation, he had been sure to hell and back when they first met that she was an alpha.

 

   No matter how she appeared, however, she was always good at her job. Brian appeared to relax and nodded, trusting his colleague's judgment. He gave Will one last glance before walking off, and Beverly turned to give Will a smile he could only imagine as sarcastic. "Don't you love betas?"

 

   His brow raised. "Aren't you one?"

 

   Beverly gave a snort, slapping a file against his chest. "Only outside the bedroom," She shot back, before leaving the room herself. Will did a double take, watching her leave and being unable to hold back a crack of a smile. A crude beta was always a fun one to be around. You couldn't help but like them. And Beverly was one of the most admirable he had ever come across.

 

   Will looked down at the file, skimming the information that Price, Zeller, and Katz had added on about the church killer. He compared the information to what he knew and agreed fully, sitting and staring at the page. There was not much there. An estimated height based upon blood spatter analysis, most probably female, deranged, most likely a first kill. All basic information that would still make it difficult for anyone to I.D this perpetrator.

 

   Will Graham felt... tired. He hadn't slept well in almost a week. Behind his eyelids dolls with faceless, cracked features danced. There was music, a noise that was distant but familiar, sharp notes that almost sounded like someone tickling the keys of a piano that was just the slightest off key, closer to notes high on the guitar, yet, somehow, sounded just right. The omega struggled to get the notes out of his head when he awoke, again and again, every night.

 

   Will gently placed the file down, glancing back at Jack once more, who was discussing the case with one of the other investigators. Graham could see the stress on the alphas brow, the slightest scent of his sweat trickling through the air filled with frustration. The omega knew to let go of his earlier frustration immediately. Crawford wasn't just being Jack, nor was he meaning to be any crueler than usual. Something was wrong. And Will wasn't about to stick around and be the reason Jack finally cracked.

 

   He left the building feeling numb. The cold could have been to blame, and Will made a futile motion of warming his hands with his breath and rubbing them together. The temperature had dropped dramatically within the week, yet Will remained feeling hot and sweaty. Sometimes, when the omega woke up in the middle of the night, he would have to shove away the pillows he was holding onto with feverish desperation and strip down, the sheets covered in his sticky sweat.

 

   That reminded Will. He really needed to change his sheets.

 

   With this decided, Graham climbed into his car and started for home, listing off the remaining necessary steps for the day. Change sheets, eat, shower, get to Dr. Lecter's. A shiver raced up his spine, and the train of thought was interrupted as he trembled. The omega had to quickly correct himself, eyes wide as he focused on the road he had nearly just drifted off of. That wasn't normal. Will was known to wander around the filled spaces in his mind, but seldom did he ever get so dangerously lost during a drive. Let alone have that sort of reaction to Dr. Lecter.

 

   It was troublesome. Will had half a mind to call and cancel, worried, maybe, that he was getting sick. It'd be rude to show up and give the good doctor a cold.

 

   He'd call when he got home. Change the sheets, call, and then... and then what?

 

   Will couldn't remember any steps.

 

—

   Hannibal was impatient. It wasn't a normal state for the alpha to be in, as collected as he appeared to be in front of the masses. He felt irritable and restless, tempted to even start pacing across his office. His eyes flicked to the clock to his right, the man sitting in his chair with his legs crossed and pointer fingers to his lips, others angled so that they met at a sharp point. A flare of irritation soured his mood even more, like old milk sitting in the sun. Will Graham was late.

 

   There hadn't been any call about a cancellation, or even a simple update that traffic was crazy at whatever hellhole Will had crawled out of this time. He could excuse this behavior then. But there was nothing. Hannibal drew in a deep breath and stood. It was two hours past the time, and he had half a mind to go straight to the omega and demand an explanation, to growl and hold himself above the man-

 

   Hannibal exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to fall in a disorderly manner as he glowered at the floor. He hadn't thought to use any of his abilities on Will Graham before. He wasn't a wild, out of control creature, nor was he hopelessly neurotic and in need of a strong voice of reason. The omega had a commendable strong will, one that could come across as rude to those incapable of reading him and, Hannibal was certain, definitely rubbed alphas the wrong way wherever he went. Dr. Lecter found that trait to somehow be charming.

 

   Charming or not, the man was still late. The doctor hesitated once he found himself tapping his fingers against a table. It was a bit late in the night to be making a house visit. He could always attempt to sneak his way in, and, if by any minimal chance he was caught, he could always use the argument of scolding him for missing their little meeting. Hannibal knew he would not go tonight, though, it would be interesting to see what sort of apology Will could come up with, what excuses he would use.

 

   Hannibal sighed and shook his head, but smiled, as though Will was right in front of him, sitting in his chair. "You are an enigma to me, Will," the man murmured, tilting his head as he sat back in his own seat, curious, as he continued his one-sided conversation, "What is it about you that is so interesting? I feel as though I'm a schoolboy again, studying one of the many greats. No omega should have so much power. Such control. Yet you are so close to the edge, balancing on the cliff like the fool, and it would only take a push..." Hannibal imagined the man falling, and it was beautiful. He looked peaceful, much like a diver, dark eyes closed and his lips pulled in a thin smile, genuinely, unbearably happy, before sinking into the water and out of Dr. Lecter's sight. The man frowned. He did not like the idea of Graham absconding, to be fully removed from his careful watch.

 

   Perhaps pushing was not the greatest of ideas the doctor had had with what to do to Will Graham. It certainly was not the worst. The alpha would never speak half of those fantasies aloud.

 

   The doctor stared at the empty chair for a while more, and once he looked to the clock again he was alarmed to find it was early morning. He stood quickly, scolding himself as he rose from his chair and collected his things, shutting down the lights. He hardly ever spent so much time in his office, let alone lost in thought. He felt the tugs of sleep but ignored them with relative ease as he entered his car, stopping at the first light. He was still thinking of Will, imagining the man swept up in one of the many nightmares he proclaimed to have. Hannibal looked to his dashboard and loosened his tightening grip on the wheel.

 

   It took every once of control Hannibal had to ignore his longing. He turned right.

 

—

 

   Hannibal did not expect a phone call at 5 am in the morning from Alana Bloom. The alpha had hardly been asleep four hours, and it took a few passes of his hand over his eyes to see properly before he picked up the phone. "Dr. Bloom. How may I-"

 

   "Will's missing." A flicker of irritation rose, but the doctor swung his legs over the side of his bed, brow furrowed.

 

   "Missing? Have you check-"

 

   She interrupted him again, "Yes. Yes, we've looked at his home, school, office, labs, everywhere. His dogs weren't fed. He's just... gone."

 

   Hannibal was fully awake and on his feet, rolling his shoulders as he went towards his closet. "We will find Will. He missed his meeting with me last night and I thought to check on him... I should have." Dr. Lecter narrowed his eyes. He should have let his curiosity sweep him up where it wanted to go. His instincts told him something was wrong, and if something happened to his omega it was all his fault-

 

   Calm, calm. It would be easy to track Will Graham down. One only needed to know his current obsession. And who better than his own psychiatrist?

 

   "Listen," Hannibal murmured softly, his tone softening, soothing, a trick he used many, many times, "Call in for him. I believe he may have... went fishing. " Dr. Lecter wasn't sure why he suddenly had the urge to lie. But he found he didn't want Bloom or Crawford anywhere near Will. "He mentioned feeling put off by the case. Needing to step back. He has been forgetful as of late." The irritated sigh on the other line could have given him hives.

 

   "This isn't like him, to disappear," Bloom insisted. Hannibal was quiet a moment before his voice dropped low, one arm tucked into his shirt sleeve.

 

   "Ms. Bloom. I assure you, Will is alright. And I will happily scold him very, very thoroughly for you when I find him." Dr. Lecter was not lying. Will Graham had missed a session that the good doctor himself had been looking forward to, and not even apologized for it. He would make him apologize, Hannibal decided, as Alana conceded and thanked the doctor before hanging up, leaving the man to dress. Dr. Lecter was so distracted by the newfound need to find the omega and punish him for his disobedience that he didn't care to even fix his hair, or put on one of his elaborate outfits. Ignoring even his trademark cologne, the alpha had a one track mind and was insistent on getting out the door as soon as physically possible.

 

   All in all, it was Hannibal Lecter's fastest morning, as he was out in five minutes.

 

  Finding Will was no trouble. It wasn't like hunting, where one followed tracks or scents. Hannibal had no need for his more basic, instinctual capabilities. Will Graham's mind was what set the path up for Dr. Lecter. He was predictable. His obsessive nature strung him along from place to place, making the man avoid even the most basic of needs or social responsibilities. To put it frankly, when Graham's fine nose caught wind of something, he followed it like an alpha in heat who caught wind of a fine omega.

 

   It did not stop Dr. Lecter from being a bit surprised, however, when he stopped outside of a church deep in the town that smelled faintly of death, entered the building, and saw Will, bent, sitting in a pew, his mouth moving, speaking, with no one there to listen. Hannibal decided to stay quiet, silencing the door as he closed it and sneaking around behind him, manually slowing his breathing. It was a rare treat to get to enjoy Will's strange habits.

 

   "Not here now...It's not here," Hannibal heard the man murmur, in a similar tone to someone talking a person down from a rooftop. "..Don't need to worry anymore... It's very, very safe. I wouldn't lie to you." Hannibal tilted his head slightly, trying to hear better as he listened in. Will was very quiet, his voice a small rasp, definitely dehydrated or maybe sick. It would explain the way he was swaying in his seat, staring at the empty, blood-stained pulpit. Hannibal pursed his lips in a thin line. It was definitely a tricky situation. Will was the sort of omega who may attack when he was sickly. This would take patience.

   Hannibal very quietly backtracked, reopening the door and closing it a bit louder this time, rousing the attention of Will. Hannibal pretended to adjust his shirt, but, was actually watching Will squint at him before his brows raised high in surprise. The man stood, almost stumbling, and Hannibal was relieved that the man seemed cognitive at the very least. Will Graham met his eye and the pair stared at each other, trying to get a proper read. Hannibal broke the connection first, taking a step forward and opening his mouth to speak, but the words died in his chest.

 

   Will looked surprised, staring at the other man's wide-eyed stare, which was so uncharacteristic for the doctor. Hannibal swallowed once, his lips a thin line as he looked the omega over, a hum, almost a purr, leaving his lips. The scent in the air was almost overbearing. Old blood, death, the melted wax of candles along the sides of the pews, and the sticky, sweaty, sweet smell of the omega across from him in certain heat.

 

   And Will barely looked affected.

 

   "Dr. Lecter?" Will questioned, his brow knit together as he squinted, confused, at the man, and then looked back at the pew. "I...what time is it?" He murmured, rubbing his hands together as Hannibal slowly looked to his own watch, his chin jutting out.

 

   "It is six a.m, Friday, the 14th." Hannibal answered simply, and though he appeared calm, he was staring at Will with a crossed desire to pull him apart on the pulpit and to have him on the pew. Dr. Lecter was not impressed by his longing. His instincts were all afire and it made his mind, which Lecter considered to be the strongest, best part of himself, to become muddied by the sensation of Will. The omega had no idea the effect he had on the man. It was infuriating but allowed the alpha to still have the upper hand.

 

   "Six a...? I'm..." Will shook his head, scrunching his eyes and putting a hand on his head, looking pained. "I missed our meeting, I'm... sorry, I lost track of time... Is that why you're here?" Will looked almost suspicious, and that snapped Hannibal out of his dangerous mindset, keeping it from growing out of control. He relaxed his hands that had been balled up like claws and soothed his shoulders by rolling them, smiling softly.

 

   "Alana Bloom called after searching your house for you. Are you..." Hannibal took a few steps closer, to the point he could see the details of Will's face, the way he was looking at Dr. Lecter sideways, glancing up and down like an animal assessing friend or foe. "Are you alright, Will? You look awful." Hannibal's words seemed to soothe whatever animal was behind Will's wild eyes, and the teacher turned around to look at the pulpit, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

 

   "Awful?" He repeated, looking back to the man for only a second. "...My thoughts are at best unpleasant. I came here to feel... clean? And to get a better look. To step back a moment and really see. But I see nothing but..." He closed his eyes and shook his head, turning back to Hannibal and jumping when he almost walked straight into his chest, his eyes snapping wide open in a manner that made Hannibal feel powerful.

 

   "Perhaps I can help you see. Take the curtain away and show you the man underneath," Hannibal's words made his own mouth turn up in a sly smile. It was a crude joke. One Will did not apparently understand, thankfully, since he broke his gaze and shook his head, remorsefully walking over to the pulpit, standing behind it. Hannibal looked up at him and saw something more than human. He squinted at the light, just breaking free from the dark hills far outside the window, that cast Will in a beautiful bright light. He looked like an art piece that Hannibal would thumb over for hours in a museum or gallery. He cataloged the information in two files in his mind: Will Graham, and future drawings he needed to create.

 

   "Help me?" Will finally asked, and this time, it was with a smile. "I don't think you can see. There is no curtain. It's not smoke. It's just... " He shook his head, and Hannibal knew he would have to coax most the words out of him.

 

   "What do you see, Will?"

 

   "I see bodies," The man spoke quietly, but he soon shut his eyes and shook his head, lips twitching. "No, I... I don't see bodies like normal. They are moving, writhing all together like worms in the dirt," he spat.

 

   Hannibal chuckled, taking a single step so that they were a bit more level, the light a little less blinding. "Mating in piles. A common thing to find worms doing." Dr. Lecter's voice became more serious, a low tone that brought a visible shiver down Will's spine, "Are you ill, Will? Or maybe even distracted by more..." He glanced down pointedly, feigning a sense of shyness, then met Will's eyes with a new state of intensity, "Carnal desires?"

 

   William's eyes went wide and his brows went up as if Hannibal had just asked to have him against the pulpit then and there. With the flush against his cheeks and stretching down his neck, Dr. Lecter might have well. "Sex is not at the forefront of my mind, Dr. Lecter," Will spoke quickly, almost scowling at the suggestion. Will preferred not to think about the act, since the steps to get there were at worst tedious, and often the end results were less than perfect, leaving him with nothing but sour disappointment and a still-simmering appetite. "I don't know why it is what I see, but it's there, clouding every judgment, every clue, and it is burning me the more I sit here. That's why I came, to feel-"

 

   "Clean. Will, these desires are natural." Dr. Lecter lifted a hand to silence Will's next protest, "The more you deny base desires, the stronger they sometimes can become. You are not unclean, Will. Jack Crawford feels desire. Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, even Freddie Lounds- you are surrounded by people who feel how you do now at least once in their lives," Hannibal spoke quietly, taking another step closer, "Feeling desperate for affections is not above anyone, Will. Not even you. Not even me."

 

   Will took a moment to look at the doctor, and the man could see tired lines under his eyes, certain that he had been here all night long, trying to see something other than uncleanly, animalistic mating. Hannibal took the last step and stood beside Will, who was partially bent over the pulpit, using it as support. Hannibal looked him over and his lips twitched with the hint of a smile. Will Graham was excited by whatever it was he saw.

 

   The doctor reached out and put his hand on the pulpit, meeting the omega's eyes, trying to read him. When the alpha finally decided, upon seeing that flushed face so very close, to maybe, perhaps, offer some sort of assistance for the obvious discomfort the man had, a flash had his gaze quickly snapping back to the doorway, a snarl ripping its way from his throat. A flash of red hair was all that was seen before the door slammed to a close. Will Graham groaned, trying to wipe the flash of white from his eyes as Hannibal stood tall, protectively over the other, angry that his own train of thought was interrupted. The doctor barely took a moment to recover from the blinding flash before he grasped Will by the arm and pulled him towards the back where he knew an exit lied.

 

   Will did not protest, following along quickly, with his head ducked. "That was Freddie, wasn't it?" He hissed from between his teeth, trying to ignore the warmth of Hannibal's hands on him as he was ushered into the other's car. Hannibal glanced around the street, his instincts too high to respond to the confused man. After but a moment of searching he saw the familiar vehicle, meeting the other alpha's eyes from behind a glass. He hadn't been able to smell her because of Will, whose scent had made the proud man let his guard down. The doctor wasn't sure what Lounds wanted, and he wasn't willing to stick by for an impromptu interview. When it seemed as though the overly confident alpha was going to come out of her car and drill them for thirty minutes on a variety of stupid questions Hannibal moved like the world was catching on fire and he could only help Will Graham escape it, driving unusually recklessly as he sped away from the area.

 

   Hannibal had fought the urge to go and rip Freddie's hair from her head and choke her with it. It had taken every ounce of strength and patience the man had left, and as he drove his hands tightened on the wheel. He could barely hear anything Will had to say as he calmed himself down, going over the events that happened and wondering how he could cover up their steps as if they had done anything wrong. He didn't know what she wanted, taking a photo of the pair like they were two celebrities caught in a hotel room scandal. His grip on the wheel tightened with an audible crunching noise, and he could faintly hear Will quiet down. It was for the best he did.

 

   Will Graham was starting to smell unbearably good.


End file.
